


Seared

by FoxyDysphoria



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyDysphoria/pseuds/FoxyDysphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter takes a bullet through his chest, will he ever recover? And what's going on with Rocket lately?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KerryBear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerryBear/gifts).



> Figured RhyminRaccoon would like this. :P
> 
> Please note that this story will not be primarily fluff and romance. There will be some, yes, but this will hopefully have a dynamic, intricate storyline with tons of action and moon-bombing. I hope you guys like it.

 

    Fire seemed to sear through his chest. He realized a second too late that he'd been shot. The bullet had sailed through the air and ripped through his body armor. The stopping power behind it sent him flailing backwards, collapsing onto the grimy concrete floor of the alleyway.

    His comrade, a much shorter creature, turned to the sniper and charged at him, shouting, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Rocket Raccoon hurtled into the gunner, tackling him to the ground. He reared back a fist, shouting insults with each rapid-fire hit, giving him no time to react. The Kree assassins face was becoming bloodied and broken, and he had quickly been knocked unconscious. Rocket reared back his fist one more time and slammed it forward. He grabbed the front of the Kree's shirt, and slammed his downwards one last time for good measure. The raccoon was panting as he got up and scampered over to Peter. "Shit, shit, shit!" He reached down and felt the half-Terran's neck for a pulse. He panicked for a second when he felt nothing, but that was only for a second. A small, fleeting heartbeat was still there, just barely.

    Rocket quickly hailed the Milano, "Milano, this is Rocket, requesting immediate medical exfil. Peter's down, he needs to get outta here."

    A moment of static, then, "This is Gamora of the Milano, we copy. Exfil inbound, ETA of thirty seconds."

    "Please, just hurry. He ain't got thirty seconds."

    Moments later, the orange and blue beauty known as the Milano appeared, using it's tractor beam to lift Peter and Rocket onboard. Rocket then dashed to Medbay, carrying Peter, pushing past Gamora, Drax and Groot. He set Peter on the bed gently before turning around, walking out briskly. "Rocket? What happened? Where are you going?"

    He hesitated in the doorway before turning to Gamora to answer her question, "I'm going to complete this mission solo. Get him to the closest hospital. I'll be there in a few hours. Keep the Milano's encrypted beacon on."

    She frowned but nodded in consent anyway. "Good luck."

 

    The Kree sniper woke up blearily aware of a dull pain all over his body. "Good morning, _sunshine_."

    The Kree jolted up. That fuckin' little vermin. He scooted backwards into the wall. Rocket pulled a pistol out of his holster, aiming it at the batman's head. "I-I was just doing my _job,_ man! Pl-please, ya gotta-"

    "I don't gotta do _shit_ for you. You've potentially _killed_ my teammate," Rocket sneered, "If you want an _ounce_ of a chance to live, you're gonna tell me where your boss is." Rocket flicked off the safety switch.

    The Kree silently weighed his odds. They really weren't looking too good. "Alright, alright. He-he's in the warehouse, a few blocks up the street. Just let me go, man, please!"

    Rocket grinned, "Good choice." He moved the muzzle of the gun down, lining the sniper's right hand up in his sights. Then, he pulled the trigger.

 

    Rocket walked into the hospital room hesitantly. He'd always hated the sharp smell of antiseptic, the harsh white light. It reminded too much of what he was, what he had been made into. He swallowed nervously. _What the hell, Rocket? Quit freakin' out,_ he scolded himself mentally. _It's just a room._

  
He nodded to Gamora, Drax and Groot as he walked further in, seeing his teammates unconscious form lying on the bed in a hospital gown. The raccoon sighed before addressing the question on everyone's mind, "Our quarry's been taken care of. Nova is confirming and sending payment," he paused briefly, jumping up onto a bedside chair. "How's Quill holding up?"

    Gamora sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm her nerves, "The doctors say he is incredibly lucky to be alive. The bullet narrowly missed his heart, lungs, and any major arteries, however, they fear he may not make a full recovery."

    Rocket's already-present frown deepened, "Did they say anything about the odds?"

    Drax was the one to answer this time, shaking his head, "They did not. However, if he sticks with their recommended physical therapy exercises and avoids any strenuous activities after discharge, that should help." A long silence filled the air as they all glanced around the room. Eventually, everyone's gaze landed back on Peter. Drax spoke up again, "Was the quarry of any challenge?"

    Rocket snickered, "Nope. Didn't stand a fuckin' chance," the raccoon shifted awkwardly, his gaze turning remorseful. "I... let the sniper live."

    Two shouts of _'what?!'_ and one _'I am Groot?!'_ answered him.

    "Hey, hey! I shot his trigger hand...!" Rocket held up his paws defensively. "He might'a bled out!"

    Gamora sighed and rubbed her temples. She could feel a headache coming on. "If you feel that was the best choice..." she hesitated, "Let's just hope it doesn't come back to haunt us."

 

    There were lights. Bright ones at that. Someone really needed to turn them off. They were annoying. Peter dully became aware of his surroundings, and of the pain in his chest. _Where the hell...?_ He attempted to sit up, only to feel a small hand gently push him back down. A slightly raspy voice said something, but he couldn't really make out the words. He tried to speak a response, but he found his throat was dry, his voice clouded and unintelligible, so what should've been 'where am I?' came out more like, "Whrmat?"

    This was greeted with a chuckle from the same raspy voice. "I got no clue what the hell ya just said, Quill."

    The speaker's identity clicked in Peter's mind now, "R'ket?"

    "Yeah, it's me. Go back ta sleep, Star-Dork."

    Peter tried to nod, only to find he couldn't move too much. Sighing in resignation, he closed his eyes drearily and drifted off once more.

 

    Rocket tinkered with the Quarnix battery that sat in his lap. It was two AM, and he refused to leave Peter alone. He just didn't trust hospitals. At least, that was the part that he told the other Guardians. Truth be told, he'd been developing feelings for the half-Terran.

    He sighed to himself. _The freak's wrong with you, Rocket? You ain't supposed to feel that way about your best friend. 'Sides, like he'd ever feel the same._ He felt conflicted, and he hated it. He was always so assured, so confident that he knew what was best for him, and for once he didn't. It was killing him.

    A soft groan brought him away from his thoughts. He looked up to see Peter's eyes flutter open, only to snap shut again. There was a long pause, before Peter asked, "What time is it?"

    Rocket looked to the info panel on the wall across from the bed. "8:37 AM,"Wow. Had he really been sitting there for that long already? He looked back at the half-Terran, "You've been out for two weeks, ya' know."

    Peter opened his eyes again, shooting him an incredulous look. "Two weeks," he repeated, deadpan.

    "Yep," Rocket nodded.

    "Two weeks," Peter said again. "Two. Freakin'. Weeks."

    "Uuuuh-huh," Rocket drawled. Peter attempted to sit up, only for pain to shoot through his torso. Rocket brought a paw to his face as he watched the humie. "That ain't gonna work, Pete. Docs are leavin' ya on bed rest till they think you're recovered enough."

    Peter slowly raised his hand to his forehead, wiping away some sweat and groaning exasperatedly. "Where's everyone else?"

    Rocket fumbled with the Quarnix battery absent-mindedly, "Gamora's out restockin' the Milano. Drax and Groot're helpin' her." He was considering telling Peter what was on his mind, but... _Aw, fuck it._ "Hey... Pete?"

    Peter looked at him, "Yeah? Somethin' wrong?"

    "I... uh, fuck. This is hard as hell. Ya know, never mind it." _Damn it!_

    Peter frowned at this, "Nuh-uh. Ya gotta tell me now."

    "Pete, I can't. I just- I can't," the raccoon seemed to be borderline panicking now.

    "Rocket, c'mon, man. Pleeeease?"

    Rocket turned around staring at the wall; he couldn't meet Peter's gaze, "No, Quill. Maybe later, just... not mow."

    Peter sighed, realizing that was the best he was gonna get from the raccoon for now, "Fine..."

    Rocket looked down to the Quarnix battery again. _Look at what you've done, ya d'ast idiot_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for reading. If you liked Chapter 1, please leave kudos and subscribe! Have questions / comments? Leave me a comment!


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